


Guess the season is on

by Petra



Category: Iskryne Series - Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/M, Pegging, Psychic Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolves' breeding ground was in the basement of the police headquarters, far enough underground to allow for all the ventilation to be properly filtered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guess the season is on

"Bloody hell," Annie said, her breath hot on the back of Gene's neck. "Do you tell her to be this difficult?"

"Does your brother listen? Right now?" he asked, and she laughed, soft and fast as a wolf's amusement.

The breeding ground was in the basement of the headquarters, far enough underground to allow for all the ventilation to be properly filtered. It wouldn't do for one bitch's heat to set off the whole town, and when it was one like Gene's sister Grace, she just might. She was leading Annie's leggy black Paul a merry dance still, bounding about the padded floor as if she was a puppy nearer Paul's age than her own.

The rest of the dog-wolves had gone, sent packing by her snapping teeth. This was for the fun of it, the joy of the chase that went zinging through her every time they were after some nasty criminal.

But this time, Grace was going to be caught, and she'd love every second of it.

Gene wasn't chasing along with her, nor dancing one single step to her tune. She was drawing it out as long as she could to teach the barely-grown pup a lesson about anticipation. All the while, Annie was caught up in Paul's frustration, her hands shaking on Gene's hips and the toy strapped to her poking at him, blunt and rude as any man with a brother. Gene had all Grace's yearning caught up in his stomach, burning its way through him, and he couldn't have got up off his knees if all the blaggers in the county came charging in to laugh at him at once. "Go on, love," he said, to Grace, and to Annie too, though she was holding back till the wolves finished their teasing.

Grace gave him her wickedest grin and pushed a wave of _yearning/dizziness/want_ at him as thick and strong as treacle, pulling him down till he let his head hang. He couldn't see her offer herself to Paul, the ruffle of her tail and the bend of her body that wasn't submission, wasn't anything but invitation. He felt it as if her bowing legs were his own and the feathered fur, brushing against the floor, sent tingles up his arms.

"Oh," Annie said, and pressed a quick, desperate kiss against his shoulder as she pushed in, caught up in the wolves' motion, the way they joined.

The smallest part of Gene's mind that was aware of his body, of her care and the way she hesitated, was grateful to Sam--far off, now, blocked off in the pack-sense as much as anyone could be--for insisting that Annie deserved a space on the team. There was something to be said for a bird, though Gene would be the last to say it aloud, especially where Sam could hear him.

He thought he might make it through Grace's heat without any bruises, this time.

Though not without shouting the place down. It was soundproofed, as much as anything could be--Tyler had helped with that, clever boy that he was--so the lads upstairs weren't sitting around listening. They might be getting work done, once they got far enough from Grace to get their brothers' heads back to the job.

More likely they were at the pub already, drinking off the daze that went with mating when it wasn't an open field and their brothers weren't involved in the real deal.

Someone in the room howled. Not Grace. Not Paul. And too low to be Annie.

"All right?" she said, her hips hitching to a halt, out of rhythm with the wolves.

The trouble with bloody women was they didn't know a good thing when they heard it. She'd learn. "Don't stop, don't--"

"Sorry, Guv, sorry," and they were off again, back in the desperate rhythm of the wolves till for one moment, they were all together, joined and perfect and cresting.

Gene caught his breath for a minute when he had a sense of himself again, not the self all tangled up in _female wolf heat male wolf more now more_ but the separate part, the man who had responsibilities, even to the woman gasping for air with her face between his shoulder blades. "Enough?" he asked her.

Annie made a sound that scraped across his nerves, hungry and too familiar. "Almost."

"Get off me, lass."

"I just--I need--" Her eyes were wild, not seeing him, tied up in her brother's lust.

There was something to be said for a bloke, too. He'd never once had to ease them off him while they shook, knees weak with incomplete lust, and bury his fingers in any man with a slippery fake prick bouncing in the air.

But they didn't shake and cling so nicely to his wrist, either, and when they said, "Again," it was more resignation than lust. "Again. Please."

"We've got all night," Gene said.

Annie's eyes were as fierce as Grace's, as sharp and shrewd as Paul's. "Again. Now."

Gene was no gentleman, but he knew better than to deny a lady anything.


End file.
